


if I'm a thief, then she can join the heist

by damnsmoaky



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Con Artists, F/M, Heist, Ocean's Eleven AU, POV Oliver Queen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25037665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnsmoaky/pseuds/damnsmoaky
Summary: Con artist Oliver Queen gets out of jail with a plan. He's going to rob three of Las Vegas's casinos, and he's going to need a team. And every heist needs a tech expert hacker - he just wasn't expecting her to be so… remarkable.or a completely self indulgent olicity Ocean's Eleven AU
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 32
Kudos: 107





	if I'm a thief, then she can join the heist

**Author's Note:**

> It's a bit surreal to be writing fic again almost a decade after I stopped. I love heist movies and this idea wouldn't leave me alone, so I hope you enjoy it! (And if my first fic in ten years wasn't titled after a Taylor Swift lyric what would be the point)
> 
> This is my first Olicity fic so I'd love to know what you think by leaving a kudos and/or comment.
> 
> I used some lines from the show and a lot of lines from the movie - specially the technical ones about the heist because I do not know how to rob a casino 😂
> 
> Thank you Abby for being the best cheerleader, Jess for reading it through first, and Mandy for all the support <3 
> 
> The next (and final) part should be posted next week!

"Please state your name for the record."

"Oliver Jonas Queen."

"Mr. Queen, the purpose of this meeting is to determine whether, if released, you are likely to break the law again," the woman presiding over the parole board lifted her eyes to face him for the first time, expression devoid of any emotion. She didn't bother to look him in the eyes. The other two members of the board, a man and another woman, seemed to be only mildly interested in the proceedings. "While this was your first conviction, you have been implicated, though never charged, in over a dozen other similar schemes and frauds. What can you tell us about this?" 

"As you said, ma'am, I was never charged," he answered, easily if a bit contrite. It wasn't surprising that this was the route they were going for, and he'd had five years to prepare for this moment. He held himself straight, intertwined hands resting on his lap.

"Mr. Queen, what we're trying to find out is: was there a reason you chose to commit this crime, or was there a reason why you simply got caught this time?" the man asked next.

"My dad died. I was grieving. I got into a self-destructive pattern. Even cheated on my then girlfriend with her sister," while airing his dirty laundry to the parole board wasn't something he necessarily wanted, it helped paint the picture he'd been building towards. And it was probably the most truthful statement they'd get from him.    
  
The chair of the board took over again, laying down the paperwork she'd been shifting through. "If released, is it likely you would fall back into a similar pattern?" and this time, when she asked, her eyes met his, hard. 

  
"My father already died, he can't exactly do it again," Oliver shrugged lightly after he spoke, gave them the ghost of a smile, but kept his posture. He saw the three board members share glances, but said no further. 

"Mr. Queen, what do you think you would do if released?" she pressed, holding his gaze. He considered his answer carefully, knowing that after five years his freedom was at his fingertips.    
  
"I just want to turn my life around. And I know that to do this I'd have to become something else. I'd like the opportunity to do that," he tried to imbue as much honesty as he could into his words, even though he knew they were bullshit. Oliver watched carefully each of the board's members' reactions to his answer and, when he saw their expressions shift, he allowed himself to smile. 

* * *

If he was a better person, Oliver would feel bad about breaking his parole not even 12 hours after leaving prison by crossing state lines, but he knew all along where his plan would take him. Before he could get there, though, he needed to take a quick detour to Los Angeles. 

Getting into Poison was easy enough, now he just needed to find who he was looking for. Oliver figured the best way to get his attention was getting into the VIP balcony and waiting. He sat himself at the bar, ordered a shot of bourbon, and toasted silently to the sultry brunette sitting two stools from him, who had been watching. Sure enough, he didn't have to wait long until a tall, built man around his age, wearing what he could tell was a very expensive suit, walked up to the bar and placed his arm around sultry brunette's waist. He raised an eyebrow, maybe in challenge, but Oliver just gave him the fake, non threatening smile he'd perfected over the years. The tension seemed to leave the man's posture. 

  
"Max Fuller," he introduced himself, extending his free arm towards Oliver for a hand shake. "Welcome to Poison."

"Oliver Queen. It's a nice place you've got here," he answered easily, then shifted his gaze from Max to the woman he was holding, then to the large bodyguard who had just approached behind them and was eyeing him warily. "And these are?"

"My fiancé, Emma, and my bodyguard, John Diggle," he introduced. Oliver's smile widened. After a bit of small talk where he let Fuller do most of the talking, he decided it was time for the next step. 

"Would the three of you like to join me for a drink?"

"I don't think that would be appropriate, sir," Diggle said in a flat tone. 

"Come on, Mr. Diggle, are you expecting an assassination atempt?" Oliver joked, downing the rest of his drink, staring straight into the man's eyes.

"The man is right, Diggle, you could afford to relax a little," Max piled on and his fiancé laughed as he pulled her to her feet. "Let's move to a table and you can have a drink with us."

  
Diggle seemed tense by the prospect, but didn't argue further and followed the couple, leaving Oliver to trail after them. After they were all seated, Max flagged down a waitress and turned to Oliver.

"If you don't mind me asking, Queen, what do you do for a living?"

"Why should I mind? Bourbon on the rocks, please," he paused and smiled briefly at the woman taking his order. "I just got out of prison, actually." 

He said it lightly, but held Max's gaze so the man could see he wasn't joking. Oliver noticed how Emma's eyebrows shot up and how Diggle leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms. Focused on his answer, Max seemed to have forgotten about the waitress and the rest of their orders. "Really? What did you go to prison for?" 

Oliver shrugged. 

"I stole things."

"What, like jewels? Diamonds?" Emma asked, leaning forward, interested. 

"Incan matrimonial head masks," but it was Diggle who answered this time, eyes still focused on Oliver. Neither of the men paid any mind to Emma's confused expression or Max's eyes moving from one man to the other. 

"From a museum?" Emma insisted. 

'’Gallery," Oliver answered, while he took his glass from the waitress with an appreciative smile.

"There a lot of money in those? Incan matrimonial..." Max continued, gesturing with his hands. 

"Head masks," Oliver supplied. "Some."

  
"Don't let him fool you, sir. There's boatloads," Diggle interjected again. "If you can move the things..." he continued, then spoke to Oliver, pointedly. "But you can't."

"My fence seemed confident enough," was his only reply, while he sipped his drink. 

"If you're dealing with cash, you don't need a fence," Diggle retorted. Oliver smirked at him. 

"Some people just lack vision," he responded, raising his glass in the man's direction lightly. Diggle scoffed. 

"Probably everybody in cell block E."

Oliver saw the moment it dawned on Max that he and Diggle had a relationship, and just what the nature of that relationship was. By the stiffness on Diggle's shoulders and the furrow of his brow, he saw it, too. 

"Mr. Queen, would you please excuse us? And I think it'd be best if you seeked entertainment somewhere else," was all Max said, glancing back to his bodyguard. Oliver placed his empty glass at the table and stood up, an easy expression on his face.   
  
"Of course. A pleasure to meet you all," he locked eyes with Diggle one last time, tilting his head slightly, and left the club. 

* * *

Oliver had made himself comfortable in a booth at Big Belly Burger. His double double with fries would probably taste a lot better in Star City, but LA at least had a Big Belly, so he wouldn't complain. There wasn't much of a crowd there at almost two in the morning, so it was easy to hear the bell when the front door opened. He felt more than saw the man walking across the empty dinner to stand near his table.

"When did you get out?" were the first words out of Diggle's mouth. Oliver tilted his head back to look him in the eye, but the man remained impassive. 

"This morning." 

At that, Diggle let out an exasperated sigh. 

"You barge into my new workplace, ruin my professional reputation, least you could do is tell me you've got something better for me," he threw his suit jacket on the seat before sliding across from Oliver into the booth. 

"I've got something better for you, Dig," he answered, and pushed one of the two black coffees in front of him across the table. 

"Tell me," Dig cut straight to the point, eyes still narrowed at him. Oliver leaned in. He'd been planning this for the last five years, perfecting the job in his head, taking into account every variable he could think of - and then a few he probably couldn't. He'd need to bring more people in, yes. But first, he needed Dig. 

"It's tricky. No one's ever done it before. It's going to need a lot of planning and a large crew," he started, his voice low. Oliver could see, by the way Dig shifted in his seat and by the look in his eyes, that the strategist in him was listening. 

"Guns?" he questioned, leaning in to listen. 

"Not loaded ones. It has to be very precise. There's a lot of security. But the take..." 

"What's the target?" Dig cut him.

"Eight figures each," he continued. 

"Oliver. What's. The. Target." Dig repeated, more insistent this time. Oliver took a deep breath.

"When's the last time you were in Vegas?" was his answer instead, and he let it sink in while he took a sip of his coffee. Diggle leaned back on the seat, letting out a little puff of air that could pass for a breathless laugh. 

"What are you saying, man? You wanna knock over a casino?" His tone was pure disbelief, almost challenging, but Oliver didn't let it discourage him. Setting his coffee mug down, he shook his head. And lifted three fingers. Oliver watched as Diggle took that in, his hand rubbing at his face. He gave his friend a minute while he pushed everything on the table out of the way and fished a couple of blueprints out of his inside pocket, setting the papers between them. 

"This is the vault at the Bellagio," he pointed, and gave Diggle a moment to scan the information.

"If I'm reading these right - and I think that I am - this is probably the least accessible vault ever designed," was his friend's verdict. 

"Yep." 

"You said three casinos..." he prompted, and Oliver flipped to the next blueprint. 

"These feed into the cages at both the Mirage and the MGM Grand," he explained, tapping two passages marked on the blueprints of the vault. "But every dime ends up here."

"The Bellagio, Mirage, and..." Oliver watched as realization dawned on Dig's face. "These are Adrian Chase's places."

"Yes, they are. Think he'll mind?" he asked, smirking. John shook his head, still focused on the blueprints in front of him. 

"Somehow I think he might," Dig answered, and finally looked back at Oliver. "You'd need at least a dozen guys doing a combination of cons. What are you planning, Oliver?"

"Well, off the top of my head, I'd say we're looking at a Boesky, a Jim Brown, a Miss Daisy, two Jethros, and a Leon Spinks. Oh, and the biggest Ella Fitzgerald ever," he listed. Diggle let out a low whistle. 

"Where do you think you're gonna get the money to back this?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow, but Oliver wasn't really worried about that. 

"As long as we're hitting these three casinos, we'll get our bankroll. Adrian Chase has a list of enemies," he answered, folding the blueprints and storing them back safely into his suit's inside pocket. He placed a couple of bills to cover the check on the table and stood up. Diggle followed his lead, getting up and putting his suit jacket back on before they went for the door. 

"But does he have enemies with loose cash and nothing to lose..." when Dig paused, Oliver knew he'd gotten to the same conclusion he had. "Ah. Tommy."

"Tommy," he confirmed, smiling, and opened the door for Diggle to go out first, but his friend took a step outside and stopped on the sidewalk, turning to look him in the eye. 

"I need a reason. And don't say money. Why do this?" he questioned.

"Why not do it?" he said first, but when Dig didn't move and kept staring at him, he knew it wasn't the time to bullshit around. "Because yesterday I walked out of the joint after losing five years of my life and you're working as a glorified babysitter for TMZ stars", he paused and stepped towards Dig before continuing. "Because the house always wins. You play long enough, never changing stakes, the house takes you. Unless, when that perfect hand comes around, you bet big. And then you take the house." 

He finished saying his piece, eyes focused on John. He waited as Dig thought it through, before he shook his head at him.

"You've been practicing that speech, haven't you?" he asked, and Oliver let himself relax because he knew Diggle was in. 

"A little. Did I rush it? It felt like I rushed it," Oliver answered, following Diggle to his parked car. 

"No, it was good, I liked it. The babysitter part was worse," Dig rounded the car to the driver's seat door while Oliver got into the passenger seat. Dig started driving and Oliver gave himself a moment. 

One down, nine to go. 

-   
  
"What did I tell you? Art heists suck!" 

Both Oliver and Diggle turned in the large, ornate foyer.    
  
"Tommy Merlyn," Oliver stepped forward towards the stairs Tommy was coming down from, and took him in for a moment. He seemed carefree enough, the picture of an idle billionaire in his early thirties, monogrammed loafers and all, but Oliver knew Tommy well enough to see the glint of interest in his eyes. He planned on capitalizing on that interest, yes, but he also genuinely liked Tommy, so when the man stopped before him with outstretched arms, he accepted the hug. 

"I missed you, buddy. Did you get the cookies I sent you?" Tommy loosened the hug and stepped back, but kept holding him by his shoulders. Oliver answered with a smile of his own. 

"Well, why do you think I'm here?" he knew he was laying it on thick, and by the huff he heard from Diggle he thought so too, but Oliver knew Tommy Merlyn wasn't really one to appreciate subtlety. He saw how the glint in his eyes got that much sharper before his smile widened again as he stepped back and turned to Diggle.

"John! It's nice to see you, too!" He grabbed one of Dig's hands in both of his and leaned in, playfully adding: "Last I heard you were babysitting the likes of Max Fuller!"   
  
"Not you, too" Dig complained, pulling his arm back as Oliver snorted and Tommy's eyes crinkled with mirth.    
  
"Come on, John, you could do so much better!" He pushed. "I expected you to be guarding at least a Kardashian or a Jenner. Oh, Ollie, they're still famous! But now they're influencers, not reality stars, is a whole new thing."

"I was in jail, Tommy, not marooned on a deserted island," he replied, placing his hands in his pants' pockets.   
  
"Well, where are my manners? Come, both of you, I had the brunch set up on the outdoor table near the pool. If we're in California, might as well enjoy the weather! And you probably need all the vitamin D you can get, buddy," Tommy joked, leading the way inside the mansion through a sitting room with tall glass doors that opened to the backyard. 

After they were seated, Oliver and Dig let Tommy do most of the talking as he tried to catch up Oliver on what he'd supposedly missed during his jail time, with John adding a couple of details here and there. None of the men mentioned Oliver's supposed reason to be there, and he could see Tommy getting impatient. His eyes met briefly with Diggle's and they were on the same page - it would be better if Tommy felt like he had to work for it. 

"So, Ollie," he finally said, when their plates were cleared and the champagne bottle they were drinking with fresh orange juice was nearly empty. "Care to share your plan with the class? I know you didn't spend five years doing crossword puzzles. And don't tell me you came all the way here because you missed me cause flattery is not getting you anywhere." Diggle didn't bother to hide his laugh and Oliver just stared at Tommy. "Fine, flattery will usually get you pretty far with me, but not this time. Spill it, buddy."

"I want to knock over a Vegas casino," he stated calmly. Tommy began to laugh, but it faded when he realized both Oliver and Diggle looked dead serious. He let himself fall back against his chair.

"You're joking."

"I'm not," Oliver assured. Tommy turned to Diggle then, probably because he thought he was usually saner than Oliver. 

"He's not," John confirmed, amused by Tommy's reaction. "He actually wants to hit three Vegas casinos in one night." Tommy's eyes widened and he looked back to Oliver, who just shrugged his shoulders.

"You are both out of your goddamn minds! Are you listening to me?" He shook his head and leaned forward on the table. "I might not be that much of a genius, but I  _ know  _ about casino security. My father invented most of it! And let me tell you right now, it cannot be beaten," he propped himself back against the chair, raising his hands to count with his fingers. "They've got cameras, timers, vaults, motion sensors, retina scanners, and enough armed personnel to occupy a small country! Look, the closest any man has ever come to robbing a Vegas casino was the poor bastard that managed to get outside of Caesars in 87 and they gunned him down before even he reached the sidewalk."

"They weren't us, though," Oliver pointed out. Tommy stared at him, bewildered. 

"Yeah, what am I saying? You guys are pros, the best, sure you can pull it off and make it out of the casino. Of course, lest we forget, once you're out the front door, you're still in the middle of the fucking desert!"    
  
"You're right. He's right, Oliver," Diggle said, turning to him and placing his napkin on the table. Oliver sighed.

"Tommy, you're right, I let my ego get to me," Oliver continued, as Tommy just nodded and rolled his eyes. "Thank you for brunch, though. Sorry for bothering you, we'll see ourselves out." 

He and Diggle stood up, and each shook Tommy's hand.   
  
"It's all good, guys, we go way back, no harm done," he shrugged, sipping his mimosa, and Oliver nodded, turning to follow Diggle back through the glass door and making sure he wasn't walking any slower than he normally would. "Look, just out of curiosity, which casinos did you choose to rob?"

  
"Uh, the Bellagio, the Mirage and the MGM Grand," Oliver threw, seemingly uninterested, and turned back to Diggle. He held back a triumphant smile when he heard Tommy set his champagne flute heavily against the table.    
  
"These are Adrian Chase's places," Tommy observed as he stood up and walked towards them. "What do you guys have against Chase?"   
  
"What do you have against him, that's the question," Oliver shot back. 

"He pushed me out of my dad's casino! Bought out all my shares then made a big show of it at an investor's meeting! The bastard even got my dad on his side, not that that's saying much," Tommy's tone was bitter and Oliver would feel guilty about manipulating his friend if he wasn't giving him an opportunity to get his revenge. Tommy's eyes narrowed and he continued: "Don't think I don't see what you're doing."

"What are we doing, Tommy?" Dig's question sounded more amused than anything else, even if his face remained passive. 

"If you're planning on stealing from Adrian Chase, you better know. This sort of thing used to be civilized, right? You'd hit a guy, he'd smack you, done. Chase, though," Tommy's expression was dark as he shook his head. "At the end of this, he better not know you're involved. Because I'd say he'll kill you, but the truth is he's going to make you wish you were dead."    
  
"That's why we need to be very careful. Very precise," Oliver knew Tommy was right, there was no point in denying that Chase was ruthless, but he also trusted his plan and he needed Tommy to believe that they could pull it off. He made sure to hold eye contact as he completed: "And well funded."

He saw Dig nodding by his side and Tommy just kept looking between the two of them. 

"You gotta be nuts, too," he eventually said. "And you're gonna need a crew as nuts as you are." Oliver could practically see the cogs turning in Tommy's head as he tried to come to a decision. Tommy focused on Dig first, and the man held his eyes with ease. He turned to Oliver, decision made: "Who do you have in mind?"

Two down, eight to go. 

* * *

With Tommy and Diggle on board, things began to fall into place quickly. Between the three of them, they had all the contacts they needed to put together the best team possible. Oliver was the first to admit he wasn't always the best at working with others, but he could compartmentalize. 

Diggle got in contact with Rory Regan first, because they needed an inside man to start working at the Bellagio as soon as possible, and with the right documents and the perfectly manufactured recommendations, Rory had quickly become a black jack dealer on the casino floor. Tommy brought Barry Allen and Rene Ramirez in. Oliver wasn't the biggest fan of either of them, but they were good at what they did and would do well in the roles he had for them - they'd have to perform multiple cons and act as getaway drivers at some point, and as much as both of them annoyed him, Oliver knew they could handle it. It didn't require that much finesse, really, so as long as Rene kept his temper in check and Barry stayed on top of his nerves, they wouldn't need to worry about them.    
  
They also needed someone to deal with munitions and explosives, and Cisco Ramón was the best in the business, even if his tendency for grandeur and his codenames for everything got on Oliver's nerves. He had some things going on, apparently, but one visit from Oliver and he was happy to cast everything aside to work with “the real pros”. 

When Oliver said they also needed a flexible acrobat for the crew, Tommy looked at him like he was losing it, but Diggle just shook his head and took him to the circus. Oliver was doubtful about “The Amazing Yen” at first, but by the end of his act, he knew they had their greaseman. 

Getting Anatoly on board was more challenging than he'd anticipated. Apparently, his old Russian mentor had retired during his time in prison, but with the right incentives and the knowledge that there was no way his friend was satisfied with a quiet normal life, Oliver managed to sell him on one last con and a chance to make history - well, their kind of history, at least. And Anatoly pointed him in Roy Harper's direction. 

The team needed someone who was good at slide of hand, and most of their first choices were a no go for multiple reasons. When Anatoly told Oliver about the boy from a rough part of town that was getting a reputation as an excellent pickpocket, he had his doubts. A day of watching Harper work on the subway proved that Anatoly still had a good eye for that kind of talent - Roy blended in masterfully with the crowd and chose his targets well, his hands were light and his misdirections effective. Selling him on the con wasn't as straightforward, though, since Roy didn't think he'd do well in a team, but Oliver could see it in him - the defiance and the need to prove himself. It reminded him of himself a little, and after he recognized that it was easy enough to push the right buttons. He didn't even get annoyed when Roy managed to swap his watch, which was a testament to his good mood.

Nine down. One to go. 

* * *

"We've put together a good team, now all we're missing is someone to handle the technology aspect. Get into the casino's and the city's network, man the comms and trackers," he listed, throwing a worn out tennis ball from one hand to the other as he paced around Tommy's living room. "You sure we can't get Holt on board?" he asked his friend, though not for the first time.

"I told you, Ollie, Curtis is working with the feds now. He cut a deal and now they basically own his ass for the foreseeable future," Tommy shrugged. "If you needed a couple of Victoria's Secret models to pull this off, I'd be your guy. Sorry I don't know that many computer nerds."

“What about Raymond?" Oliver wondered, choosing to ignore Tommy's joke. 

“Dead.” Dig answered this time. 

“No shit. On the job?” He hadn't heard anything about it, but then again not all information was easy to come by in prison. Dig shook his head.

“Stomach cancer," he corrected. “I sent flowers."

“I dated his wife for a while,” Tommy added. 

  
Oliver let the tennis ball drop to the floor and started rubbing his thumb and index finger together, turning to face both men. "Between the three of us, we've got to know someone who can handle technology. I'll be damned if we can't do this because we couldn't find a computer guy."

"It's 2012, man. If you want to pull a job like this, you don't need your run of the mill computer guy. We're gonna need a hacker. A good one," Dig said as he crossed his arms. Something about his posture and the way he kept his face carefully blank set off alarms in Oliver's head. 

"And you have someone in mind already," and it wasn't a question, really, because Oliver knew John Diggle. "Who's the guy?" Dig's expression changed, his lips slowly stretching into a smirk, and the alarms in Oliver's head got louder.

"Girl, actually."

* * *

"Welcome to Tech Village!" 

Oliver took a moment to take in the woman in front of him. The name tag let him know she was who he was looking for. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail with a red pen tucked into it, and he could see an industrial piercing in her left ear. Her lips were painted a bright shade of fuchsia that somehow worked for her, and her nails were a light aqua green that contrasted with the dark tablet she was holding. Even the garish bright indigo blue Tech Village polo shirt she was wearing seemed to bring out her blue eyes, big behind two-toned rectangular shaped glasses. She looked nothing like he expected, if he was being honest. 

"Felicity Smoak? Hi, I'm Oliver Queen," he watched as her blue eyes became even bigger behind her glasses before she opened her mouth.

"Of course! I know who you are, you're Dig's friend, Mr. Queen."

"No, please, Mr. Queen was my father."

"Right, but he died. And you clearly didn't! You went to jail. But you're obviously out right now, which means you could come to Tech Village and listen to me babble… Which will end! In 3, 2, 1," she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and Oliver couldn't hold his smile in if he wanted to. After a brief moment, she seemed calmer when she looked at him again, even if her cheeks were still tinted pink. "I'm sorry, was there anything I could help you with?"   
  
“Yes, I think John might've mentioned I'm looking for a tech consultant?” he asked, even if he knew John had mentioned it. Oliver had insisted. He didn't know Felicity, but from what Diggle had told him, he knew she wasn't like the rest of them, and he wasn't about to jeopardize five years of planning on a hunch - even if John's hunches were usually spot on. So as far as Felicity was concerned, Oliver was Dig's ex-con friend who needed help with a project.

"He did, but he didn't give me a lot of details about the job you'd need me for. Actually, he gave no information whatsoever," she sounded bothered by that notion, and a tiny crease showed up on her forehead. Oliver was shocked to realize he thought it looked adorable. Felicity seemed to realize she was making a face, because she quickly added: "Not that there's anything wrong with wanting privacy! I'm guessing it wasn't that easy to come by in jail. Not there's anything wrong with making mistakes, either, and don't get me started on our justice system!" He could see her physically stopping herself from saying more, and after a shake of her head and another deep breath, she continued with an apologetic smile: "But anyways. What are you working on?"

“Isn't your shift ending soon?" was what he blurted out instead of an actual answer, and he wanted to slap himself when Felicity frowned. He was supposed to ease into it, make her feel comfortable with him, and then try to speak to her in private - only to try to figure her out and, depending on his impressions, to recruit her for the team. Diggle had been firmly tightlipped about anything to do with Felicity Smoak, other than saying that she was a friend, an expert hacker, and a tech genius who needed the money - he wouldn't even say what she needed the money  _ for _ . 

"How do you know my schedule?" whatever warmth Felicity had on her expression had vanished and she was studying him, probably trying to get what his deal was, Oliver figured. He used to be better at this, damn it. The sharp glint in her blue eyes told Oliver that turning on the usual charm would do more harm than good, so against all of his usual moves, he trusted his gut and went with honesty.

"John mentioned it. It's just… The matter I want to speak with you about is a little bit sensitive,” he chose his words carefully but she still narrowed her eyes. If Oliver had any doubt over Felicity's knowledge about Diggle's past, they were mostly gone. By the look in her eyes he could tell that she knew that in this case? Sensitive meant illegal. “Just fifteen minutes of your time, Felicity. We'll grab a cup of coffee and talk and by the end of it, if you want, you never have to see me again.” 

He waited for her answer feeling his heart pounding in his chest. It made no sense for him to be this nervous about her answer, because the truth is there were probably other hackers out there. But there was just… something about Felicity. Since he'd come out of jail, Oliver was single mindedly focused on pulling off this job. Finding John, contacting Tommy - they were his friends, yes, but they were also means to an end. Felicity was different. He wanted to use her skills, yes, but it was more than that, which sounded insane because he had met her minutes ago. 

She took her time considering him, and he could tell by her eyes that she was conflicted. He held her gaze, even if it felt like she was looking into his very soul, and tried to convey that he wasn't a creep or insane. Eventually she sighed, glancing at the clock on the wall. 

"I do get off in a couple of minutes," Felicity confirmed, and she didn't sound that excited but right then, he'd take resignation. "There's a coffee shop around the corner called The Grind. I'll just clock out and change and I'll meet you there."

* * *

He tried not to keep checking his phone, and reminded himself he'd been waiting there for a little over twenty minutes. There was still plenty of time for Felicity to show up. He had considered texting Diggle for further advice, or to at least ask if he knew her coffee order, but his friend would probably read too much into it. And more importantly, Oliver could handle her. He sipped his coffee and glanced out the shop's window. The table he'd chosen was pushed against it and on the corner of the space, out of the way so they could have some privacy. 

Oliver had to admit, at least to himself, that he was feeling oddly nervous about this. Dig was integral to his plan and Tommy was sponsoring the whole thing, and still getting them on board didn't make him feel like that. It was because Felicity was an unknown entity, he reasoned. The only people in the team he hadn't worked with before were Yen and Roy, and it was easy enough to figure them both out. Yen wanted out of the small travelling circus he was stuck at. Roy wanted to prove himself and, if Oliver were willing to guess, to be a part of something bigger. So he needed to figure Felicity out, because Diggle was no help. He answered every question Oliver had about her with an amused smile and an "I'm sorry, man, you'll have to ask her". So he knew she was apparently a genius, but didn't know why she was working at Tech Village of all places. And he knew she'd possibly be inclined to say yes because she needed the money, but again, he had no idea what for. 

He was shaken out of his thoughts when a flash of blonde caught his eye. When he saw Felicity coming, he straightened up in his seat and waved through the window, before catching himself and quickly pulling his arm down, but she still answered with a nervous smile. She gestured to the counter with her head when she entered, letting him know she was picking up her drink first, and he studied her from the table. Her hair was still up, but the red pen was gone. She'd exchanged the blue polo and beige khakis of her uniform for a flattering red sundress and Oliver couldn't help but appreciate how good the color looked on her. She paid and collected her iced coffee quickly, then came straight to his table and sat across from him. 

"Sorry, clocking out took me longer than i thought it would," she started, placing her messenger bag on the floor by her chair. Felicity settled and sipped her coffee, closing her eyes and moaning in appreciation. It affected Oliver in a way he really didn't want to examine.

"I appreciate you taking the time to sit with me, Felicity," he tried to be reassuring, but he could see she still looked nervous. "When John mentioned I needed a… consultant, he really didn't say anything else? A reason as to why he had recommended you?"

"Um, not really? He only said he believed you and me could have a mutually beneficial relationship," Oliver couldn't help but choke on his coffee and Felicity's eyes went wide: "Professional relationship! Why does it sound bad when I say it? When John said it it didn't sound dirty!" 

"He wasn't wrong, Felicity," he continued, deciding it was best to ignore her accidental innuendo. "I've put together a team and we're missing a person with a very specific skill set. My usual contacts are unavailable, so Dig brought up your name." 

"You mean hacking skills, don't you?" Oliver couldn't really get a read of her tone, but her facial expression was dark. It bothered him for some reason. He may have only met her, but he could already tell Felicity and dark shouldn't go together. But he also couldn't lie to her. 

"Technology expertise in general, but yes, Felicity, hacking would be a big part of it. Is that a problem for you?" he was straight forward, eyes locked on hers. Despite his inexplicable need to comfort her, Oliver could see clearly she wouldn't appreciate being coddled. He mentally patted himself on the back when he saw the approval in her eyes. 

"Yes. No? I mean, it should be. I know it should," she bit her lip and the action was way more distracting than he cared to admit. She set her shoulders and focused back on him. "What are you planning, Oliver?"

"How acquainted are you with Las Vegas?" he shot back. Her eyebrows went up.

"Born and raised, actually," she answered, and Oliver felt his own eyebrows arching. Diggle had conveniently forgotten to mention that. 

He was unsure how to bring up the robbery itself, and being unsure wasn't… natural to him. Whatever conscience he still had made him second guess himself about involving someone like Felicity in his schemes. He could feel her eyes on him, waiting for him to continue, but he didn't know how. After a few moments, though, she was done with waiting. 

  
"You can stop beating around the bush, Oliver. I'm not fragile and I know the kind of things John's been involved in. I'm not… calling the cops on you or whatever. But you're asking for my help, and I need to know what for before I can give you an answer," she stated firmly, and Oliver had to admit he was impressed - he prided himself on having an excellent poker face, but Felicity read him easily. He decided he was done underestimating her. 

"I'm planning on simultaneously robbing three Las Vegas casinos," she looked shocked and, if it was any other moment, Oliver would take the time to be amused at how her jaw dropped and her mouth formed a little 'o' shape. "You'd have to man comms between the team members, put the security cameras on a loop, probably hack into the city's network. We'll divide the money evenly between the eleven of us - the take is eight figures each."

There, he thought. All out in the open now. He could see the gears turning in Felicity's head. She could probably tell he'd grossly glazed over the details of what her role would entail, but he felt like he'd given her enough information to make a decision. 

"How are you planning to deal with the security personnel, or anyone who ends up in the way?" she asked. Oliver chose to believe that the fact she was worried about that was a good sign.

"Distraction, misdirection, and we'll use tranquilizers if we need them," he assured her. She still looked doubtful, so he carried on. "No guns, Felicity. A con man that's worth anything doesn't need them. Nobody's getting hurt, I promise you." 

Usually, Oliver avoided making promises - specially promises he wasn't sure he could keep. But he truly didn't plan on anyone getting hurt, so there was no reason not to reassure her. The time she said she'd give him was running out, so he pushed further. 

"Felicity, you know John and you trusted him enough to hear me out. You know he wouldn't get you into trouble, and I know he wouldn't have suggested your name if he thought you couldn't handle it," Oliver reasoned. "He said you needed the money. Not what for, though," he quickly added when she looked alarmed. "But if this one job can give you peace of mind, maybe even get you out of a bad situation… isn't it worth it?" 

When she offered no response, Oliver pulled a small envelope from his jacket's pocket and slid it across the table towards her. Felicity eyed it warily. 

"What is that?" she questioned as her hand hovered over it, unsure if she should grab it or not. 

"A ticket to Vegas and the address of where we'll be staying. We're going in two days because we need a couple of weeks of recon to pull this off, but you should be able to get in until the end of this week. If you want the job, it's yours, Felicity."

She kept staring at the envelope as he got up to leave. He was already outside when he heard her calling his name, so he waited as she caught up to him on the sidewalk, with the envelope clenched in her hand.

"Can I trust you?" he must have looked bewildered, because she rolled her eyes before explaining. "Look, you just admitted to me you're planning the heist of the century and yet I still feel like I can trust you. Why is that?"

"I have one of those faces," he answered automatically, his façade coming back as defense after being as vulnerable as he'd allow himself to be with her. He regretted it instantly when her face fell. 

"Sorry. Yes. You can trust me," he held her gaze and let her look for whatever she needed. After a moment, her face cleared and she nodded to herself. He could tell she'd come to a conclusion, but he couldn't for the life of him guess what it was. 

"Tell John I told you to ask him about my father," her voice sounded determined so he nodded, even if he had no idea what she meant. She held the envelope up and taped it with her finger. "I'll think about it." 

With that, she turned to leave and Oliver watched her go until he couldn't see her anymore. He shook himself out of it and made his way back to Tommy's. 

He hoped he had a team of eleven now. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
